


What Have You Done To Me?

by ColourSherlockUnique



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Johnlock Fluff, M/M, Self-Harm, Sherlock Angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-22
Updated: 2016-11-22
Packaged: 2018-05-15 13:59:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5787850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ColourSherlockUnique/pseuds/ColourSherlockUnique
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock has recently discovered his feelings for his blogger but he is convinced John will never feel the same. <br/>John has decided to ignore the feelings for Sherlock, after all he is married to his work.<br/>Will these two ever have the courage to say how they really feel? Or will they continue dancing around each other til neither can take it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Sherlock**

I moved from room to room around the apartment. I was bored. I collapsed on the couch, staring at the mess around me. Case files, notebooks and the remnants of past experiments litter all the surfaces. I knew John would be annoyed when he got back from work. He hates it when he has to clean up after me. A sudden sinking feeling gripped me. Why was I feeling this? Guilt. I felt guilty. Why? I quickly pushed it out of my mind.

I wondered around my mind palace for a while but it didn't relieve the boredom. I scanned the room again and saw it glinting in the weak afternoon sun. The gun. That would be fun.

**John**

I had barely reached the door of 221B when 3 gunshots were fired. I ran up the stairs, taking then two at a time. Various scenarios ran through my head as I reached the living room. Sherlock was stood on the coffee table shooting at the now bullet filled smiley face.

"Sherlock! What the hell are yo-"

'Bored!' He shouted, dropping the gun to the floor. I sighed and strode into the Kitchen to make a cuppa to calm down. I leant against the counter looking around the room. The living room was a mess, as usual. I knew that if I wasn't here, Sherlock would be surrounded by clutter. Though saying that he'd probably get Mrs Hudson to clean. 

The kettle boiled and I made my tea. I took it to my chair and wondered what Sherlock had been doing all day. 'From the looks of it, trying to blow up the apartment' I chuckled to myself.

"Why are you laughing?"

I didn't realise I had actually been giggling. 'Oh, no reason.' I replied. he was studying me; his eyes were glistening. They were one of his best features. Wait...'one of his best features?' Why am I thinking about this? I am not gay! I tore my eyes away from his, a blush creeping up my face.

**Sherlock**

He was blushing. That was unusual. We sat in silence, a little while later John started cleaning up my mess from the day. The sinking feeling had returned. Should I help him? I watched him busying about. He seemed to bringing out emotions in me and I don't know what to do with them. John has told people many times that he's not gay, so why should I be any different? I've never questioned my sexuality, no-one has ever evoked my interest...until John. Oh John, what are you doing to me?

I cam out of my thinking pose to find that John had fallen asleep. I stared at him; he looked so young and peaceful. I was transfixed and I got up and knelt in front of him. Why was I doing this? I found myself wanting to hold him, to know what it would feel like to have his lips on mine. I backed away quickly, thankful that John had stirred. Where had all these feelings come from? I knew that there was something different about John from the moment I met him. He had found my deductions 'amazing' to quote him, which came as a shock as no-one had accepted me before. I had noticed a shift in the way I regarded John after the pool incident with Moriarty. John had been prepared to die to save me. He tried to save my life. I hadn't given it much thought before, but now I could think clearly. John Watson tried to save me me, Sherlock Holmes. Why? Did I actually mean something to him?

As I pondered this, I felt my walls crumbling down. The walls I had built, protecting me from emotions. Everything I felt now came pouring out of me, I could feel the tears trickling down my face as I stared at the wonderful face of John; my blogger. How could I have not seen it before? I needed him. He brought light into my dark heart. He has given me hope. He's made me human.

I don't know how long I had sat there, trying to get my feelings under control but after a while I realised I couldn't feel my legs. I got up shakily and wondered into the Kitchen. What should I do? Do I tell him? No. John was straight. I went to my room, closing the door behind me. I knew if I had stared at John, I would have given in to my emotions and kissed him, and if he'd of woken up...I knew it was for the best just to lock down these feelings and continue as normal.


	2. Chapter 2

**John**

I woke up in complete darkness, curled up in my chair. There was a blanket covering me. I don't remember getting a cover, unless Sherlock put it here? No, the idea of him doing something normal is laughable. I must have reached for it through the night. I stretched and stood up. Sleeping on a chair isn't the most comfortable place. I finally noticed that Sherlock was no where in the room, his bedroom door was shut. I hoped that he was getting some sleep, he desperately needed it. I crept upstairs and crawled under my own covers of my own bed.

I awoke to sunlight streaming through the window and the sounds of a violin coming from below. I laid for a while listening to Sherlock play. The song seemed to be dripping with emotion. It was sad, mournful and slow, then it changed and became hopeful. After Sherlock stopped playing I decided to get up. I made my way downstairs to find Sherlock was sat on the floor, violin laying beside him. "Sherlock? You okay?" He jumped up at the sound of voice making his dressing gown fly off in odd angles. "Morning John! You want a cup of tea? What am I saying, of course you do!" Sherlock scurried off into the Kitchen and busied about with cups. I knew something was wrong, he is never this bright and cheerful in the morning. And since when did Sherlock make tea? I decided to wait and see if he would talk to me first. He returned with our drinks and took his seat opposite me. I kept trying to steal glances at him without alerting him but his eyes never seemed to leave me.

We sat there drinking our teas whilst I was trying to figure out what was bothering him. God knows what Sherlock was thinking about. I finished my drink and decided to bite the bullet. "Sherlock, what's wrong? I know there's something, so don't lie to me. You know you can tell me anything, right?" I tried to read his face as I asked him this. Something flickered through his eyes but it was replaced with his mask moments later. "Oh well done John. You noticed something's wrong. We must inform Scotland yard of this new genius!" He snapped. I recoiled. Why did he have to shout? I know that he's a sociopath but recently his moods have been getting better and I thought...oh. I guess I had hoped that I had been the cause of the change. These thoughts are getting worse. First his eyes, now this. Yes, I'll admit that his eyes are extraordinary, and that he is an attractive man with his cheekbones and his bouncy brown curls...no. Oh no. I think that I might be attracted to Sherlock. What am I saying? Even if I do fancy Sherlock, there's no way he'd ever like me back. it would unrequited love and that's a dangerous path to go down.

**Sherlock**

I know I shouldn't of snapped at him. He flinched at my words. Maybe I had gone too far. I was trying to act normal around him but I was evidently struggling. I watched John as he got lost in his thoughts. his eyes were glazed over and his brow slightly furrowed. Damn, he looked adorable. Thankfully, I was dragged out of my reverie by Mrs Hudson bustling in to the apartment with a tea tray. 

John and Mrs Hudson sat for hours talking about complete nonsense such as the weather and the neighbours. I was unbelievably bored by the tedious conversation, so I went to seek solace in the silence of my room. Staring up at the ceiling, old voices starting whirring around my head. 'Caring is not an advantage' 'Freak!' 'Just go and kill yourself, Sherlock!' The sounds of my school days and Mycroft were taunting me. 'Just lock them away' I muttered to myself. They were shouting at me now. 'John? really brother dear?' 'The freak's in love, guys!' 'You know that John will never love you. Look at you! No-one will love you.' I sat bolt upright. Were they right?John is the only one willing to accept me. That implies he cares for me. He's straight though. He's just your friend and friend's care for each other. Stupid, stupid, stupid Sherlock! Had I actually mistaken John's caring attitude for something more? Obviously. Pathetic. Get a grip. I need to lock down these feelings and things will be the same as before.

I sat for hours trying to box up my emotions and out them in the darkest corners of my mind palace. It proved to be an impossible task. John kept appearing and following me around, talking to me. In the end I decided to give up and find a different way to deal with my problem. I thought about getting high but John would notice and that would lead to awkward questions. Plus he hated it when I was on the drugs and after my last episode, I told myself I would never hurt John in that way again. This only left one option. At least it would numb the pain for a while. 

Opening my door as quietly as I could, I snuck into the bathroom clicking the lock behind me. I didn't want John walking in. I rummaged in the cabinet and my fingers touched the cold metal of the blade. I sat perched on the edge of the bath, my sleeves rolled up. My eyes danced over my old scars from before. I had stopped when I met John because he was my new release. If he ever found out, he would leave Baker Street. He would leave anyway if he found out about my feelings for him. This way, I could hide my scars and keep my John. I hesitated for a moment before dragging the razor across my wrist. I watched as the blood rose to the surface and started dripping down. I repeated the process again and again, trying to purge myself of these feelings.


	3. Chapter 3

**John**

After Mrs. Hudson had left, I sat around pointlessly. Sherlock had disappeared soon after Mrs. Hudson had arrived. I guess he got bored of our conversation. Just then a thought struck me. I need to cheer him up. He was quieter than normal and that's saying something. What would cheer up a sad Sherlock? I know he'd be ecstatic if he got a case but Lestrade had said the other day that there were no new cases. What about a surprise? I could buy him...something? God, I'm hopeless! I can't think of anything that I could buy for my best friend. I didn't want to start killing people so he'd have a case. Knowing Sherlock though, he'd know it was me in a matter of seconds. I really am useless at lying. I decided the best action would be to just wonder around some stores and see if anything gave me inspiration. I scribbled a note for Sherlock and grabbed my coat.

Half an hour later, I remembered why shopping was a hateful chore. Each store has loud, irritating music designed to deafen you and everyone in London seemed not to notice you or not care as they shove you out of the way. Eventually I stumbled across a quaint little bookstore. I knew Sherlock loved reading and already owned most books but judging by the titles of these books, Sherlock has never been here. I strolled among the shelves until I found the perfect book. The cashier was a lovely young woman, with dark brown hair in a messy bun. Her name tag said her name was Sophie. Once I had paid for the book, I asked if she'd be able to gift wrap it. I wouldn't be able to do it at the flat because of my flatmate with his eagle eyes.

Me and Sophie really hit it off and we exchanged numbers. As I left the shop, I was having an internal debate. I knew Sherlock would be impressed with my present and hopefully it would make him happier. The fact that I was more concerned with Sherlock's happiness than getting a girls number, was deeply unsettling. Sophie was definitely interested in me but I really didn't care. Damn it! It hit me as I stared up at the brass numbers on our door that I had fallen for Sherlock. I didn't know what to do. Surely if I knew, then the world's only consulting detective certainly knew. Would it be awkward between us? What if he wanted me to leave? I sat down on the steps outside the door, trying to compose myself. I didn't want to leave Baker Street. I knew that I belonged here, with Sherlock. Would I be able to push these feelings down? Yes. I had to. I needed to keep them locked up so that I could remain with my best friend and carry on solving crimes and following him across London. If Sherlock could wear a mask, why couldn't I do the same? God knows my life would be nothing without him. Something wet was dripping down my neck, I jumped up realising it was pouring down with rain. I must have zoned out for a long time as the street lights were flickering on, dousing the paths in a deep orange liquid. 

I walked up the stairs, a trail of water behind me. The living room was lit by one lamp in the corner. It gave the room an eerie glow and cast elongated shadows on the walls. Sherlock was sat in his chair, knees tucked under his chin. He looked like a lost child. I forgot about how cold I was and that I was soaked because I needed to help Sherlock. He looked so...helpless. Something in my chest tightened. I hated seeing him like this. He hadn't moved when I entered the flat but I didn't want to alarm him so I moved slowly towards him. I sat in my chair across from him, his eyes were cast downwards. The note I had written earlier was crumpled on the floor. What had happened while I was out?

"Sherlock? What happened?" He didn't answer just lifted his head and stared at me. I couldn't help looking into his eyes. The colours seemed to constantly change making it seem as if there was a storm in his eyes. Even though I had known him for 6 months, his stare still felt like it penetrated straight though me. I started to feel self-conscience but thankfully he broke the silence first.

"John? Why are you wet?"

"What? Oh yeah, I went out and got caught in the rain."

"You should go and change out of those clothes. You'll get sick. I'll make us a cup of tea."

His voice was barely audible but I heard him clearly. I had got halfway across the room when Sherlock whispered "I'm glad you're back, John."

**Sherlock**

As I watched my blood slowly drip to the floor, all I felt was relief. At least I would be able to continue on for another day. I cleaned up my wounds and carefully rolled my sleeves back down. The sting of pain I felt made me remember why I was doing this. To keep my blogger by my side. I knew Mrs. Hudson must have gone by now, so I strode into the Kitchen to moan at John but he was nowhere in the flat. His jacket was gone and there was a note on the table.

Sherlock,

 

Gone out for some air.  
Back later.

John

I didn't know what to make of it. I know I hadn't done anything to annoy him today. Looking at the note, I let my eyes roam over the space where his doctors scrawl had marked the page. It was rushed, so he was obviously in a hurry. He would have normally made his notes legible and the doctors scribble was an old habit that didn't use unless he was jotting notes down at a crime scene. 'So John must have wanted to leave the flat quickly' I thought to myself. I shouted for Mrs. Hudson and she came into the flat looking flustered.

 

"What is it Sherlock, dear?"

 

"How was John when you left?"

 

"He was fine. He looked a bit tired though, poor thing. Didn't really listen to what I was saying. Ooh, do you think he's finally found someone? The signs are there he-"

 

"Yes. Thank you Mrs. Hudson."

 

I flopped down on the couch, pondering what Mrs. Hudson had said. Had John met someone? With all his previous girlfriends he disappeared, but he always told me. What if he didn't want me to know? That's stupid. "What would stop him telling me" I mumbled to myself. Unless he knows I'll get jealous. Am I jealous though? The idea of John laughing and being happy with someone else, made my chest feel as if there was a huge weight pressing down on it. Yes. I am jealous. I wanted to have John here and hide him away from the world so he would be mine. Only mine. I turned over so my face was in the cushions of the couch. I let out and exasperated sigh. Emotions were definitely not an advantage.

Picking up my violin, I decided to distract myself by getting lost in the music. I started playing, pouring my emotions into the melody. I feared that if anyone heard it, then they would know who it's for. I stopped playing at that thought. The one person who I would let listen to it, was out with a woman who could make him happy in a way I couldn't. John would never be happy with me. He's usually angry with me because I've done something or stepped over some imaginary line. That isn't happiness. Why does he put up with me? We're friends. My only friend and I'll probably push him away because I'll undoubtedly do something to tip him over the edge. I was stood motionless staring at the carpet. The darkness had crept in to the flat, noticed by me. I switched on a lamp and my attention was caught by the note John had left. A surge of unwanted feelings bubbled up inside me. I crumpled it up and curled up in my chair.

I was lost in my thoughts, so I never noticed John enter the room. Only when he sat down in his chair, did I acknowledge him. I raised my head staring into his eyes. They were pure and perfect. I would gladly sit for hours getting lost in his gaze. A few moments past, he was starting to look uncomfortable. I took in the rest of his appearance. He was soaked through, and there was a small puddle forming at his feet. I stole a glance at his face which was etched with concern. I didn't like it at all. I wanted the smiling, happy John back. I seemed to take him by surprise when I asked him why he was wet. Apparently it had been raining, I hadn't noticed. Not that it was of importance. I told John to go get changed. I really didn't want him to be ill. I'm no good at caring for people. As he walked away to go upstairs, the words slipped out. I said them to myself and as soon as they left my lips, I wanted to bring them back. I prayed that he hadn't heard me. I am Sherlock Holmes afterall. The sociopath with no emotion. I thought I saw him pause mid-step, but he carried on upstairs so maybe I got away with it. If he brings it up, I can make an excuse up about being bored. If only that were true.

John returned to the living room, dry and in a change of clothes. He was wearing the black and white jumper; I always liked him in that one. I had made him a cup of tea and placed it by his chair. I sat in my chair with my coffee still trying to figure out John. I used to be able to deduce him easily, but I'm at a loss now. We were both trapped in a silent staring contest. Both in our own worlds. 

**John**

I continued upstairs smiling to myself. I couldn't figure out what he meant but it made me happy so I decided not to dwell on it. I was relieved to finally get into some dry clothes. I made it back to the living room and saw Sherlock had kept his word and made me a cuppa. Sinking into my chair, I took a sip and was grateful for the hot liquid which was now warming me from the inside. I tried to avoid looking at Sherlock but I couldn't help it. His eyes were like magnets, drawing me in. I got lost in my own world and the events from the day. Then I remembered...the book! How could I forget? That was the reason I went out in the first place. I paused, thinking about my earlier revelation. Would Sherlock take the book, thinking it meant more? Did it mean more, now I knew how I felt about him? Not really. It is still a gift to cheer up my friend. My feelings for Sherlock don't need to come into it. I think that he'll be happy with it, no matter what the reason. I got up, making Sherlock start. 

"Stay there. I have something for you." I could tell he was interested so I raced upstairs to retrieve the book out of my inside jacket pocket. I was glad Sophie had put it in a bag, otherwise it would be ruined. A giddy excitement had took over as I walked downstairs but when I reached the doorway, nervousness took hold. Sherlock showed no emotion as usual but his eyes were dancing with excitement. I handed it to him, seriously hoping he'd like it. 

"I noticed you've been, urm...quieter than normal. So I figured you needed cheering up." 

As I was saying this, my feet became very interesting. I didn't want to see his reaction if he hated it. I heard him tearing off the paper and then...silence. I wasn't sure what to do. I sneaked a look at Sherlock. He was staring at the book in what can only be described as awe. I could hear him thinking about it and I was lost. I had honestly thought he would enjoy it. I was jerked back to reality when he said my name.

"Sorry. I thought you'd like it. It's fine if you don't, I-I just thought that because you've been down lately it might make you happy."

The last few words were nothing more than a whisper. Two things were running through my head. Either he didn't like it or he had figured out my feelings towards him. Hopefully it was the former. But what if it was both? Oh no. I don't think I could take that. The silence was crashing down on me, getting to the point where I couldn't breathe. Suddenly, I felt two arms envelop me into a hug. Sherlock rested his forehead on my shoulder. I was paralysed. Sherlock was hugging me. It felt so...meaningful, as if he needed me in that moment. I relaxed into it and wrapped my arms around him. He seemed so vulnerable beneath my hands. His grip around me tightened and I knew that he need to feel protected. I would always be there for him and I hoped he knew that. My arms were starting to ache, as he was taller than me but I refused to let go. It was unspoken and I think neither of us will mention the embrace again, because it was Sherlock's one moment of weakness.

Even though I knew he just needed someone I couldn't help my heart rate increasing as I breathed in scent. There was no way to describe it. It was just Sherlock. It was comforting to me. I knew that my feelings were growing out of control this whole time and I wanted nothing more than to show him I'm the only one he'll ever need. Pulling him into a kiss would prove that, but right now he needed a friend. My chest constricted painfully at the thought of us being nothing more than friends. But if that's what he needs; that's what I'll be.


	4. Chapter 4

**Sherlock**

I watched as John rushed upstairs to get this 'surprise'. I was confused. What had he got me? Excitement and curiosity were bubbling up inside me threatening to overflow. John returned quickly and handed me a gift. He said he had got me it to cheer me up. Oh John. Where would I be without you? I didn't need any gift to cheer me up, John's presence does that anyway. I tore off the wrapping paper and was blown away. He had got me a book all about murders and serial killers. I couldn't help but stare at the leather bound book. John was talking but it was coming from a distance. He had obviously put a lot of thought into this. Why did he feel the need to cheer me up? It didn't make any sense. John has never bothered before when I went into a mood and ignored him. had something changed? From the book I was holding it was definitely a good change. 

"John."

I wanted to tell him how much this meant to me but I don;t think my words would express it. I placed the book on my chair as I got up. John was fascinated by the floor so I took my chance and wrapped my arms around him. The heat radiating from him comforted my immensely. I could feel every worry and thought leave me as John' arms curled around me. In that moment, I felt protected by John. My mask was crumbling down and so I buried my head in his shoulder. His arms instinctively tightened around me ad I almost lost it. I wanted to tell him everything right then, not caring what the consequences were, but I knew I couldn't. I was supposed to be the uncaring, sociopath who didn't have emotions. How did I let myself fall so far? There was no option. I would have to push John away. Make sure I am isolated. Alone protects me. It's all I have. 'You have John.' No. The voice in my head kept replaying it over and over. Forcing me to acknowledge the man who's arms were wrapped around me. Could I push John away? He's the only one who has stuck with me, despite my glaring flaws that have made many turn in another direction. The voice returned to torment me. 'Are you really going to push away the only friend you have? The only one who has stayed? The only one you've loved?' Shut up! Yes. I have to. I can't be attached to anyone or anything. It will be used against me. What would happen if John was danger because someone wants to get to me? I can't, won't let that happen. This needs to stop now.

**John**

We had been in the same position for at least 5 minutes now and I had completely lost all feeling in my arms now. I loosened them from around Sherlock's neck and he made no movement. I gently nudged him, nothing. Sherlock is the only person who could hug someone and disappear into his mind palace. He can stay in there for hours and not realise. I'm not going to take that risk. I unravelled our limbs and sat him down in his chair, there was no sign of life so I decided to leave him to it. Placing the kettle on to boil, my mind drifted away to reminisce about our little adventures around London. A smile forced it's way through and not before long, I was in hysterics about the whole thing. I hadn't noticed how loud I was being until I heard his familiar voice.

"What are you doing, John?"

I turned around to see Sherlock looking extremely puzzled.

"We run around London chasing criminals. It's amazing and ridiculous when you think about it." I replied. I could feel the remains of tears on my cheeks. Sherlock studied me for a moment and started to break into a smile but stopped part way though. His eyes turned cold and his expression neutral.

"It's not ridiculous or amazing. It's just a job John." I wasn't prepared for the monotone sound that reached me. Sherlock was being unnaturally cold and harsh. I know that's how he normally is but he tends to let his guard down in the flat. We would joke about cases and Sherlock's antics at crime scenes. What is going on with him? He stood like a statue, frozen and uncaring. Completely indifferent to me. It's almost as if I wasn't here.

What had changed? Not 10 minutes ago he was hugging me and now he's being...well Sherlock. But worse. 

**Sherlock**

Why am I in my chair? I was hugging John and now I'm here. I must have drifted into my mind palace again. From the Kitchen I could hear the kettle boiling and some other noise. I strained my ears to figure out the source. Laughter? Why was John laughing? Creeping over to the Kitchen, as not to alert John, I saw him bent over the counter in a fit of giggles. I have always liked John's laugh. It's so cheerful, care free and contiguous. I have found myself before laughing along with him, even when I don't know what started him off in the first place. The corners of my mouth began to twitch upwards. No! Stop it. I thought I was suppose to be distancing myself, not bothering with all this sentimental stuff. I calmed myself down and asked John as to why he was laughing. Apparently, he'd been thinking about how absurd it is that we chase criminals across London. We have both discussed this many times, mainly because I find it fascinating how John is so accepting of it all. Sure, he was in the army but that is nothing like what we do now. Some of the skills are transferable which is why I let him move in in the first place. An ex-army doctor is much more likely to accept my way of life than a shop assistant. When I first laid eyes on John, I knew all about his life and past but I could of never deduced what sort of he'd be. John will do anyhting for anyone at anytime.

Whilst these thoughts were running through my mind, I had started to smile at John. He truly was an infectious man. Looking at him now, and watching the way the florescent lights of the Kitchen made his eyes look like to giant orbs gazing up at me, made me want to forget everything and just laugh along with him. The voice in my head made itself known again. 'You could just reach over and grab him. Just lean over and embrace him. Make him yours, once and for all.' Could I? What would happen? I'm sure John wouldn't appreciate me diving on top of him and enveloping him in my arms...wait. I have to stop this. I need to stop this. I need John to hate me so I don't have to love him anymore. I replied to John in my most deadpan voice. His face dropped instantly. I hated myself for doing this to him, but in the long run this will be for the best. If not, I know my feelings for my blogger will escalate even more to a point where I act on them. I do that and John will leave. Which is not preferable. I know there is a part of me which hopes John feels the same and I would give anything for that but in reality, John believes we're just friends and that's how it will stay in order to keep him.


	5. Chapter 5

**John**

It had been a month since I'd given Sherlock the book and he was worse than ever. Constantly pushing me away. I had no idea what I had done. On so many occasions I tried to converse with Sherlock but he just walked away or ignored me completely. It was driving me insane. I contemplated going to Mycroft for advice but what would I say to him? 'Hey. Your brother is ignoring me and I don't like it.' Pathetic. 

As I relived the past 4 weeks Sherlock came in, grabbed his coat and waltzed out again. 'The same as usual' I thought bitterly. Sherlock had stopped taking me on cases for whatever reason. Wish he would say one word to me. Just one word. Does he even remember I exist or has he deleted me?

**Sherlock**

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. True to my word, I had pushed John out and I hated myself for it. I could see what it was doing to him. Yet I still continued to do so. He wasn't supposed to act this way! John was supposed to get angry and scream and shout, not sit in his chair looking sorrowful! Was he doing this on purpose? I doubt it. I know he blames himself, which is stupid obviously. Oh John. I'm sorry. If only you knew.

I arrived at Mycroft's house. I hated when he summoned me here. What was so bloody important he couldn't tell me over the phone? I picked the lock and strode inside. I found Mycroft in his study, scanning over papers, many files surrounding him. Throwing myself into a chair in front of his desk, I sighed loudly. Mycroft started rambling on about manners and other nonsense. Did he honestly think I cared?   
"Did you force me here to lecture me, or do you have something worth my time?"  
"I have a case of a...sensitive nature for you."

Ah, of course. Sensitive nature? So it involved one of his beloved royal family. How dull. I listened to the information. Ordinary people are so boring. Someone has taken suggestive pictures and is now using them as blackmail. No, not blackmail. It's a power play, with the most powerful family in Britain. Clever. Might actually be worth my time. Why would anyone call themselves 'The Woman'? Hmm, the case sounds simple enough. Just get the phone with the photos on. Mycroft could do this if he ever got off his arse and did some 'legwork'. He definitely needs it, judging on how many cakes he's devoured this week.

I returned to Baker Street hours later. John had fallen asleep in his chair again. He isn't getting enough sleep at night. Why not? I know the nightmares haven't returned. I'll figure that out later. I have to think of a way to meet 'The Woman'.

**John**

I was getting restless. This is stupid! Why won't Sherlock acknowledge me? What if he's finally bored of me? I'd have to leave Baker Street. This is my home. I don't want to leave but we can't continue like this. I spent hours deliberating over ways to make Sherlock speak to me until I drifted off.

When I awoke, I was in semi-darkness. A faint orange glow from the streetlights outlined the furniture in the Living room. Stretching as I got up, I flicked on the lights and made my way to the Kitchen. I froze as I saw Sherlock sat at the table, motionless. How long had he been sat there? After the moment of shock passed, I continued to the kettle and started to make tea.   
"John, what do people do on a date?"

If he hadn't of said my name, I would of presumed he was speaking to himself. Sherlock turned to look at me and I was caught off guard by his eyes. Dammit! Answer him. I mentally shook myself and replied.   
"Urm...well it depends. Usually just dinner if it's the first date, or the movies. Since it's you though, I'd say dinner. You do know you have to talk to the other person the whole time, right?"   
"Obviously. Excuse me, I have to get ready for a date."

Sherlock retreated to his room, leaving me stunned in the Kitchen. Sherlock? A date? With who? Questions were running through my mind. I couldn't, wouldn't believe he was going on a date. 'This confirms he doesn't like you.' Shut up. 'Sherlock's off with someone else. He's replaced you.' Replaced me? Even my thoughts were against me. What if it goes well and they end up together? NO! I can't lose Sherlock, but who am I tell him otherwise? If he wants to date someone, he can. Nothing I can do. He'll probably take them on cases. They'll run around London chasing criminals without me. 'You'll be left behind.' Story of my life. Everyone's fine with me til someone better comes along. I thought Sherlock was different though, I guess not.

**Sherlock**

I had a date with Irene Adler. It wasn't difficult. I knew she 'had a thing for me' as John would say. John. I don't know what's going on anymore. Are we to spend forever walking on eggshells, avoiding conversation? I hope not. I miss him. Stopping him from coming on cases was one of the worse ideas I've had. I keep hearing him making comments as I wondered around crime scenes. There was no-one to listen to my deductions and the skull was starting to attract attention.

I noticed the room suddenly flooded with light as John stepped into the Kitchen. I must of been pondering things longer than I thought. I tried to catch John's eyes silently begging him to say something. For him to say anything. He didn't get the message as the kettle started to boil. Damn! I have to get ready for the date. I didn't want to do this. What do people do on dates? Breaking the month long silence, I asked John. Oh, it was good to hear his voice. He suggested dinner. Wish I were going out with him instead. John would definitely be better company. Leaving John in the Kitchen, I went to get changed. 

I glanced in the mirror just before I left the flat, I noticed I looked awful. I felt awful too. Why should I though? I'm going on a date, John does it all the time. So why do I feel bad? I need to stop thinking that I have a chance with John. That was the a problem. I was hoping for a chance with him, which was causing me to doubt myself. No! I finally have an interesting case, I can't have any distractions. I needed to block out John so I could focus on winning Miss Adler's affection. This was going to be a long night.

**John**

I watched the clock as the hours slowly ticked by. 8.30. 9.45. 11.24. Why wasn't Sherlock back yet? What if he's gone to theirs for the night? What if...? No. I'm torturing myself but I couldn't go to bed. Not while he was out living it up with the mysterious someone. He needed to come back so I could put my mind at ease. The thought of Sherlock out with someone else was turning my stomach. They'll be sat across from each other, laughing and giggling at one of Sherlock's deductions. Then their eyes would meet and they would slowly lean in until...Stop it! I can't take much more of this. Why did I fall for him? I could deal with it when I knew he was emotionless but now there was someone else I involved. I don't think I can deal with that kind of rejection. 

I heard the front door open, I breathed a sigh of relief. Finally! Then I heard it. A female voice. My heart sunk to the floor. He'd brought her home. Would I have to listen to them all night? Oh God. I need to leave. Can I get to my room before they come upstairs? I started to rise from out of my chair as they walked in. I was frozen in place. Their arms were linked and she was...the only way I could describe her is perfect. She belonged next to Sherlock. Her brown hair was tied back in an immaculate bun; her lips were painted shocking red and pulled up in a proud smile; she wore a short black dress which left nothing to the imagination and was that Sherlock's coat? I needed out. Now.   
"Oh, I didn't realise you'd still be up. John this is Irene Adler." Sherlock said sheepishly. His eyes never left mine. Be civil, John. Be nice.   
"Hi. Nice to meet you." I forced a smile. An awkward silence settled upon us. What now? I was thankful when Irene excused herself, not before kissing Sherlock's cheek. We were alone. I had to go. Clear my head. I walked over to my coat, shrugging it on.   
"What are you doing?"

Getting away from you. "Going out."  
"It's half 12. It would be idiotic going out now."   
"I don't really care."  
"John, what's wrong?"  
"I need to get away from you."

With that, I walked out not giving Sherlock a backwards glance.


	6. Chapter 6

**Sherlock**

John. John. John. That's all I could think about. I knew that bringing her back was a mistake, but I needed those images. My head went into overdrive. What did he mean 'Get away from you'? What had I done? Did he dislike Irene? Couldn't blame him, so do I. She was clingy. Intelligent but very irritating. The night had gone better than expected. She didn't have much to say but I drowned her out anyway. It was her idea to come back here, so why was John being weird? Maybe I should have told him it was for a case. I could tell he was extremely uncomfortable when I introduced them. John adopted his military stance, meaning he felt threatened. Threatened by who? Me or Irene? There was too many questions and no answers.

I severely hated the idea of John being alone around London at this time. What if something happened to him and I wasn't there? Deep breath. John is ex-army, he can protect himself. Yes. He'll be okay. No need to worry.

"Sherlock?"

Oh dear, she was still here. "Yes?"

"Is it alright if I stay here tonight?"

I nodded to her and she went to my room. I wasn't going to sleep anyway, with John gone. Why was he waiting up for me? It didn't make sense. None of it did. I kept running countless questions through my mind, never getting any closer to an answer. I text John a few times and rung him, no reply. He was either injured or really pissed off at me. Hopefully the latter. As the night dragged on, my thoughts became increasingly more insane. Images of John laying in a ditch; being stabbed and John's dead body flooded my mind. I felt sick. I needed to know if he was safe. I text Molly and Lestrade in case he'd gone to theirs. Molly hadn't seen him but thankfully he was at Lestrade's. Least he was off the streets. It feels as if I'm slowly losing him. I fear one I'll look around and he'll of slipped through my fingers.

**John**

I wondered round London for a little while, trying to rid my head of all the thoughts of Sherlock and...her. I know that I over-reacted a bit, but who wouldn't? The person you love comes home with another. I was bound to be annoyed. Granted, Sherlock has no idea of my feelings for him so him bringing someone back to the flat is perfectly reasonable.

I could feel my fingers going numb in the harsh, cold wind of London. I had to get warm and soon but returning to the flat wasn't an option. I headed to Greg's house, praying that he was still awake. Turning the corner, I saw lights on at Greg's. I sped up, craving warmth. I knocked and waited. Surprise registered on Lestrade's as he took in my wind swept appearance. A minute must off passed before he let inside. Letting out the breath I had been holding in, I entered his house. I sat myself down on the sofa whilst he went to make tea. Returning with two cups, I accepted it gratefully.

"What's he done now? " Greg asked whilst sipping his tea.

Where do I begin? Should I tell him of my feelings towards Sherlock? I know Greg wouldn't judge me and maybe it would be good to get an outside opinion on the matter. Taking a deep breath, I began.

"It all started about 2 months ago..."

I told him everything. I found that once I had started, I couldn't stop. A massive relief spread over me. Finally being able to talk about it all and get it out was amazing.

"And that's how I ended up here." I finished. Greg had sat silently throughtout, allowing me to spill everything to him. We sat quietly as I watched him trying to process all the information.

"So he's home with Irene now?"

"Yeah."

"And you're here, why?"

"I guess I got extremely jealous and walked out."

"Hmm."

Moments later Greg's phone buzzed. It was Sherlock asking where I was. Greg said he was worried about me. Wht would Sherlock be worried abou me? Sighing, I stood up to make another cuppa but Greg interrupted.

"Want something stronger?"

"Oh God yes."

He grabbed a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. Hours passed and the sun was rising over the buildings flooding the room with weak sunlight. Me and Greg had spent the time coming up with ideas on how to tell Sherlock how I felt about him. The ideas become more and more ridiculous the more we drunk.

"What-what if you jumped out of a cake?" Greg giggled.

"Like, Hey Sherlock! I love you!" I shouted, re-enacting it in Greg's living room. We were both in hysterics at this notion, it would definitely leave Sherlock speechless. Lestrade's eyes started to close and we decided to call it a night. He showed me to the spare room and I drifted off to sleep, my head filled with Sherlock and those eyes.

**Sherlock**

Twelve hours had ticked by without John and Irene was still in my bed. WIsh they would switch places. I honestly thought John would have returned by now, or at least text me. He must be really pissed at me. I still can't figure out why. After spending all night delibrating over it, I'm certain John is annoyed with me for bringing Irene back to the flat. I'm stumped as to why though. John has had many women over and I never over-reacted. I may have spent many hours plotting various ways to murder them, but I never voiced them. All those times I was jealous, so does that mean John is jealous also? I need more information.

I walked downstairs to Mrs. Hudson's. I know she wants me and John to be together and she could help. I found her watching some crap telly with a cup of tea in hand.

"Mrs. Hudson, I need your help." I don't know why I was looking at the floor. I just couldn't meet her eyes.

"It's about John, isn't it? I heard him go out last night. You two have a domestic?"

"Something like that."

"Well sit down dear and I'll pop the kettle on."

I sat myself down in one of her dining chairs, preparing myself mentally. Once a coffee was placed in front of me, I told her everything. I don;t know where it all came from but it all came out. I had only planned on telling her about the John/Irene problem. Instead I told her how much I adored John; how I'd been ignoring him and how I'd pissed him off by bringing her home back.

"Then he walked out and Irene is still upstairs and I have no idea what to do." I finished. Mrs. Hudson just smiled at me before saying

"Why not just tell John how you feel?" So much for the words of wisdom I came for.

"It would be pointless. I tell him how I feel and he will leave. If he doesn't, it would be extremely awkward between us. We would never be the same again."

"You're never going to be the same again anyway, Sherlock. Things have changed for you and John. I'd suggest you him, the answer might surprise you."

I shot her a look. "What do you mean 'surprise me'? Does John feel the same?" I could feel myself getting hopeful.

"I can't say for sure but I have never seen him look at anyone else, the way he looks at you. It's as if you're the only thing he can see."

Is she lying to make me feel better? I have never seen John look at me like that. He just looks at me with those magnificent eyes of his. He's always disliked them but I adore them. I would happily spend hours staring into them. All this confusion is getting tiring. Maybe Mrs. Hudson is right, I should tell John. I just can't blurt it out though, that would scare him. What's the best way to tell John that I love him? This is going to require some thought. It's John after all, it needs to be memorable. The moment has to be in his mind forever, like he is with me. I bid Mrs. Hudson goodbye and returned to the flat to plan my confession. As I walked through door, I stopped. Irene was sat in my chair, in my shirt, playing innocent. I already regret taking this case.

 

**John**

I slowly opened my eyes, blinking many times to allow my eyes time to adjust to the bright light, which streamed through the windows. It took a few moments to remember that I was at Greg's, not at the flat. Last night was a bit of a blur. I remember something about a cake and spending too much time discussing Sherlock. As I sat up, my head started throbbing violently. Guess I drunk a little too much. Stumbling slightly as I entered the kitchen, I grabbed a glass of water and downed it in one. I refilled the glass and rummaged around for some ibuprofen.

"Right hand cupboard."

I hadn't realised Greg had entered the kitchen. He looked how I felt. Passing him two tablets as well, I took them straight away. I was going to suggest breakfast but the thought of food turned my stomach. Neither me or Greg spoke for an hour, we just flicked through the channels on TV feeling sorry for ourselves. I begun to feel human just as the sun was setting outside. How long have I been here? I knew I had better get back to the flat soon, so I grabbed my things and left Greg's. The cool evening air woke me up instantly. Half an hour later, I reached Baker Street. I knew Sherlock wouldn't be happy but I'm allowed to go out and get drunk with my friend, right? Preparing myself for Sherlock's insults and sarcastic attitude, I entered the flat. Nothing could of prepared me for the scene that met my eyes. Irene and Sherlock were in the middle of the living room, passionately making out. I was frozen in place. Sherlock is straight. Those three words repeated through my mind over and over again until I couldn't stand it any longer. The alcohol from last night was threatening to make a reappearance, so I dashed past them just making it to the bathroom in time. I spent a long time in there not daring to come out. I could hear their voices but I couldn't make out what they were saying. In honesty, I didn't want to know. Switching on the shower, I stepped under the burning water. I didn't change the temperature, I needed to feel the pain. It made me feel. I wanted to wash away my feelings. Only I could fall in love with my straight flatmate. Idiot. Once I got out of the shower, the cold air hit my skin, making me shiver. Crap! I hadn't got a change of clothes. I wrapped a towel around my waist, ready to dash to my room. I had nearly made it to the staircase, when Sherlock caught my attention. He was stood by his chair, just staring at me. I doubled checked I had still had my towel before raising my eyes to meet his. I could see his eyes roaming my torso and suddenly felt extremely self conscious. Slowly, I backed away and shot into my room. Sherlock was seemingly fascinated by my body. I could do nothing to stop the blush creeping up my cheeks. I quickly dried myself, got dressed and...just stood there. Did I want to go downstairs? Would I be able to be normal around Sherlock? My hangover headache kicked in again and I had no choice but to descend the stairs again for tea and painkillers.


	7. Chapter 7

**Sherlock**

Irene was in my chair, sat in my shirt. This was becoming tedious. I just wanted John back so I could make amends. Choosing to ignore Irene, I moved to the Kitchen flicking on the kettle as I went in. With a coffee in my hand, I took the time to reflect on the past couple of days. Somehow, I have managed to drive John away from Baker Street and gained an annoying follower. If I had just explained everything to John, he would still be here. What if I've pushed him too far? He is the only one with patience enough to stay but I fear I may have gone too far this time. The all too familiar sinking feeling returned and dragged me back to reality. I glanced at my chair, hoping she had vacated but no. Placing my still full cup on the counter, I moved into the room. I hesitated, contemplating my options. Before I could speak, Irene was pressed against me. Her eyes blazed into mine, sending a very clear message. The front door creaked open and someone started coming upstairs. John. Finally. Lips were crushed onto mine. Hands were roaming through my hair. She planned this. I came to my senses and pushed her off me. My eyes darted to the door, hoping, praying that John hadn't seen. For a fleeting moment I thought he hadn't, until the sounds of retching from the bathroom reached me. Guilt had me rooted to the spot. Hatred raced through me, threatening to be unleashed on her. Love was urging me to run to the bathroom and comfort him. These feelings were battling it out, racing through my mind.

 

_"Looks like you lose, Mr. Holmes."_

 

Lost? I stared at Irene. She just stood there smirking at me. That's when it all fell into place. 

 

_"There was never a case. You don't have any photos. So that begs the question, why do this? The answer is obvious. You were jealous."_

_"I'm not jealous."_

_"Yes, you are. You don't do this on your own though. Who would be willing to help yo- oh! Of course. You and Moriarty. We all know Moriarty would do anything to destroy me but you didn't want that, so you would have to give him something else, but what?"_

_"Your heart, Sherlock. I have to give him your heart."_

_"My heart? I've been reliably informed that I don't have one."_

_"Now we both know that's not true. Dr Watson is in danger. Not that I mind. You do though. Before you ask, no you two can't trade places. I convinced Jim that taking John would be much more entertaining to watch."_

_"Leave. Now."_

_"Fine but one more thing. If you tell John that he's in danger, he'll just die quicker."_

 

John. Moriarty won't touch him. I'll have to protect him without letting him know. This will be difficult but it's for John. This means I'll have to stop pushing him out and keep him close. No wonder he's confused, I keep going hot and cold on him. 

The bathroom door opened and John stepped out in just a towel. I knew I wasn't being subtle but I couldn't help but look at him. There were still little beads of water clinging to his toned stomach. His hair was dripping water down his neck, trickling down his shoulders. My eyes drunk in every ounce of this image, he looked flawless. There were no other words for him. I brought my eyes up to his and, quite understandably, he looked uncomfortable. He dashed past me and went upstairs. I made sure that that scene would be forever etched in my mind palace. 

 

**John**

I made it to the Kitchen safely, I don't think Sherlock noticed I'd come back down. Boiling the kettle, I rummaged around, looking for painkillers. I'd given up trying to have order in the Kitchen a few months after moving in. Sherlock had a habit of moving things and leaving them in random places. I eventually found some paracetamol with the plates. Taking the packet and my tea into the room, I sat in my chair with my headache worsening with each moment that passed. 

 

_"Rough night?"_

 

He completely took me by surprise. 

 

_"What? Oh yeah, it was."_

_"You stayed at Lestrade's then?"_

_"Yeah, We were drinking til sunrise so it made sense."_

 

Sherlock was actually having a conversation with me. Should I bring up the whole Irene thing? Maybe if I casually mention it, he'll be okay about it especially if he's feeling talkative now.

 

_"Looks like you had a good night too. Date go well?"_

_"No. Irene is completely insufferable."_

_"Really? Seemed like you two were getting along just fine half an hour ago."_

_"Really. She forced herself upon me. I had to push her off."_

 

Okay...this sounds promising. Maybe they're not together after all. Though Sherlock might just be saying that, not that I think he would. He's have no reason to lie about it. Why's he bothering going on a date and bringing her back here, if he finds her so annoying?

 

_"How come she ended up here if you didn't like her?"_

_"For the case, obviously."_

_"Case? What case?"_

 

He looked disappointed with me. Like he expected me to know exactly what he was on about. Like he'd completely forgotten he hasn't taken me on any cases in over a month. I saw the realisation hit his face, he quickly adjusted it back and explained. 

 

_"Mycroft asked me to get close to her so I could get her phone. Apparently, Miss Adler took some photos of a member of the Royal family of a 'sensitive nature' as he put it. At first, I thought it was a power play but as it turns out, there is no phone. She just said that in order to get to me."_

_"You? Why does she want to get to you?"_

_"It seems that Miss Adler has a 'thing' for me. Quite annoying actually."_

 

So it's just for a case. I felt a massive weight lift off my chest and a wave of elation rolled over me. They're not together! And he finds her annoying! Things couldn't be more perfect right now. Well, they could. I could actually be with Sherlock but the fact that he's still unattached is good enough for me. Sherlock is also talking to me again as well. I guess we're both going to pretend that the month long silence didn't happen, which I'm not complaining about. I'm just happy to have my friend back.


	8. Chapter 8

**John**

Me and Sherlock never spoke about Irene or the case again, it didn't make sense to. I guess we both wanted to put it behind us and leave it in the past. I had woken up to an empty flat this morning,m which wasn't unusual so I did my own thing as per usual. I made myself a cup of tea and once I had finished it, I got dressed and went downstairs to visit Mrs Hudson. "Ooh good morning dear. Didn't expect to see you today." She said as I entered her Kitchen. "Morning Mrs Hudson, Sherlock's disappeared again so I thought I'd pop in and say hello." I said, looking round her little Kitchen. I've always liked Mrs Hudson's place, it's not as big as our flat upstairs but it's a lot more homely than 221B. She started busying making tea and grabbing biscuits as I turned on the telly to find Connie Prince talking about the newest fashion. Ah the wonders of daytime telly. I spent many hours with Mrs Hudson talking about the neighbours, what Mrs Turner next door was doing lately and discussing whatever was happening on the show we were watching at that moment. Eventually, I heard the main door go , announcing Sherlock's arrival home.

 

**Sherlock**

I walked into the flat, wondering where John was. Panic started to pulse through me when I realised how long I'd been gone. Where was he? Something can't of happened already, could it? My fears were calmed when I heard John and Mrs Hudson's laughter from the flat below. Thank God. This meant that I could continue to work on a plan to keep John safe. I had been to see Lestrade and Mycroft hoping they could help. Mycroft already had surveillance on John which I asked him to increase. Most of our meeting was spent with him dropping snide comments about John and how 'caring isn't an advantage brother dear'. With a few choice words including 'Lestrade' and 'goldfish' Mycroft reluctantly agreed to increase John's surveillance. After spending spending time with my wonderful brother, I hailed a taxi to Scotland Yard. Marching through the door and up to Lestrade's floor, I was greeted with many choruses of 'Freak'. Ignoring their idiotic hatred towards me I entered the detective inspectors office and shut the door. "Sherlock! Don't you know how to knock? What are you doing here? There isn't a case for you." He rambled, placing his coffee down after nearly spilling it. "Listen. It's John, he's in danger." Lestrade's face fell as I briefly gave him the details. "Moriarty is on the move, I need you to inform me if anything crops up about him, no matter how small." He sat in stunned silence for a while before saying "Yeah, I will. But Sherlock, how are you going to stop him?" Now it was my turn to be silent. I still had no idea what it truly was Moriarty wanted. I'm confident that he wants more than just hurting John to hurt me, but what? I stood up to leave. "I don't know." I answered quietly before shutting the door and leaving. After replaying the day through my head several times, I was sure that John would be safe, if I had to leave him. Moriarty. He burned in my brain, the one puzzle I could never solve. He was more dangerous and fatal than I will admit to anybody. Thankfully before I could spend my night going through theories in my mind palace, John walked through the door. "Where have you been?" He didn't sound angry gratefully. "Lestrade and Mycroft. I had business with them both." Why was it so difficult to speak all of a sudden? "Ah fair enough. Are you planning to eat today? I'm starving." His head appeared from inside the fridge. "Why don't we go out? For dinner I mean." I could feel my face heating up so I turned away, praying that John hadn't noticed.

 

**John**

The words seemed innocent enough so why had Sherlock looked away? Did he mean something by 'we should go out?'. After a few moments, I grabbed my coat and said yes. Sherlock beamed at me then jumped up and started wrapping his scarf around his neck. I had no idea where we were going but I didn't care. I was happy just to spend some time with Sherlock, just me and him outside of the flat. After the whole Irene thing, I've felt me and Sherlock have kind of drifted slightly. He seems distant like he does when he's on a case but I know for a fact that he's not working on one. Not from Lestrade anyway. Unless Mycroft gave him one? Is that the business they had together? Sherlock would never go willing and visit his brother, unless Sherlock was in danger or needed government help. Oh please tell me Sherlock isn't meddling in things above himself again. Wrapped up in my thoughts once again, I hadn't paid attention where we were walking. I was quite surprised when we stopped in front of Angelo's. We haven't been here since the day I moved in. The memory came flooding back. I'm sure that's when my feelings for Sherlock started and it's all because of this place. I wonder if Sherlock regards the restaurant the same way I do? I doubt it. A high functioning sociopath with sentiment? It's unheard of. I'm certain he's chosen this place just for the food, not for the memories. Sherlock left me at the door as he went to go fond Angelo, I watched him as he whispered to Angelo who looked extremely happy and kept glancing in my direction. I just smiled awkwardly back at him and kept my head down. They both returned and Angelo showed us a table which was the same one we had the first time. Sherlock sat himself down and smiled sheepishly at me. Does this mean something? Are we on a date? I would love for that to be true but it's impossible. Though the smiles Angelo was giving me, the hushed whispers between the two of them, this table...it can't all be a coincidence. Does Sherlock like me? "Sherlock, what's all this about?" I maintained eye contact with him which was difficult. "Well John. I was going to bring this up later but since you mentioned it, there is something I want to discuss with you. I want to tell you that I-" Sherlock's words were drowned out by Molly Hooper shouting us both and coming over. Sherlock just shut up and stared at the table. Oh God. Was this it? What was he gunna say? I hope he tells me later, I know Sherlock has the tendency to clam up after he's worked up the courage to do something and it doesn't go to plan. Damn you Molly!


End file.
